


Beyond Tears

by La_Marquise



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, I had to make up a random name for Kagari's mom, Miscarriage, abuse mention, lots of suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Marquise/pseuds/La_Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one truly recovers after losing a child.  A look into how Kagari's parents coped with his incarceration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Tears

They’d always wanted a child, the two of them. From the instant Masanori Kagari got down on one knee and asked Reina, his girlfriend of three years, to marry him, they were sure of one thing: they wanted children, and they wanted them soon.

Things do not always go as planned, as it so often turns out. Despite their best efforts, no children came. They’d conceived once, early on, but it wasn’t meant to be. Masanori had held his sobbing wife tightly, close to tears himself, and told her that everything was going to be all right.

It was another eight years before they had Shuusei. He was perfect. All parents say that of their children, but he really was. Prior to the moment when he first held the newborn in his arms, Masanori Kagari hadn’t realized that it was possible to love somebody so much.

***

By all accounts, Shuusei Kagari was a beautiful child. Always happy, smiling, giggling; he never sat still. He loved cake and strawberry ice cream. He never slept without a good night kiss and a bed time story. He loved dinosaurs. Once, when he was four years old, Shuusei was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he’d excitedly exclaimed “a T-Rex!” much to the delight of those around him. 

It’s an overused cliche, but Shuusei’s smile could light up a room. Masanori loved that smile, and he and his wife strove to make sure that it never went away for long. Some might say that they were spoiling their son, but could anyone blame them?

***

When Masanori asked his son what he wanted for his fifth birthday, the little boy had laughed and listed off a number of cool new toys that were being advertised. Robots and virtual games, the usual. Once, Shuusei had asked his parents for a brother or sister, and they’d fallen silent, knowing that that was one thing they could never provide.

***

It was supposed to just be a routine medical exam. All five-year-olds underwent it without complication or issue. It would be fine. It was supposed to be fine.

“There must be some mistake.” Masanori Kagari fixed the doctor with a pleading stare. It wasn’t right, not at all. Only the troubled children were flagged as latent criminals. The outcasts, the antisocial, the disturbed. Shuusei was none of those things. He was happy, he was clever, he made friends easily. He was perfect.

The doctor shook his head. “No mistake. We re-ran the tests. I’m sorry.”

Sorry. That was all that they could say. Sorry. Sorry for running the tests? Sorry for having to break the news that their son was defective? Sorry for taking away the thing they cared about the most? Sorry would never be enough, though Masanori supposed nothing ever could.

***

The doctors had allowed Masanori and his wife to drive their son to the detainment center. A final ride. It would be dishonest to say that Masanori hadn’t considered driving away as fast as he could, doing everything in his power to keep them from taking his son away. It would have been pointless, he knew that. But, as he watched his son in the rear-view mirror, he considered it.

***

The drive back home was long and quiet. Neither Masanori nor his wife said a word. What could they say? There was nothing to be said. They went home, ate dinner, went to bed, sought empty comfort in the normalcy. It was all they could do.

***

The next morning, Masanori awoke to an empty bed. He found Reina in Shuusei’s room, lying on the bed and clutching a stuffed animal to her chest. Her eyes were dry. Masanori wasn’t surprised. There are moments when one is beyond tears.

***

It’s strange how quickly friends and acquaintances seem to disappear when someone suffers a loss. Oh, they were all very supportive at first, sending sympathy cards, stopping by to check on things, offering to help whenever they could. After all, what are friends for? But, as the days passed, the friends faded into the background once more, and as the days turned into weeks, they soon disappeared. It was common courtesy to extend support to the bereft, but there is no obligation to continue, especially in this case. After all, Shuusei wasn’t dead; he was locked away, separated from society.

Masanori could never be sure, but he swore he could feel the judgement of others. Each pitying glance, each shake of the head, they hid the questions that everyone really wanted to ask:

“What’s wrong with your son?” 

“We let him play with our children, why didn’t you say anything?”

“What did you do to him?”

All these questions and more, never asked in words, lingered in the air, hitting Masanori like a punch in the gut every day.

***

They tried to send presents to their son. Toys, candy, picture books. Every package was returned unopened. They tried to visit. Every time they were turned away. It would hinder Shuusei’s rehabilitation, they were told. There was nothing they could say, no argument that they could make, that would persuade the officials to reconsider. They were only told to wait.

“He must be so scared,” Reina murmured one evening, body wracked with sobs. “He’s probably alone. Nobody is there to say good night to him.”

Masanori put an arm around her and pulled her close. “He’s in good hands,” he assured her, quite unsure himself.

She shook her head. “Do you think he knows we love him? That we want him home?”

“Of course. He knows we both love him very much.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” Masanori didn’t know, not really, but what else could he say?

***

Shuusei’s sixth birthday was the hardest day to bear. Masanori came home from work to find his wife wrapping presents in the living room. “For when he gets out,” she explained, though they both knew their son would never unwrap them.

***

Masanori didn’t sleep very much anymore. He couldn’t. Reina slept constantly. She had to. She hadn’t slept much at first, but the newly prescribed pills, of which she took more and more, helped. Masanori didn’t like it, but he said nothing. Far be it from him to take her comfort away. She had so little of that these days.

***

Of course, they blamed themselves, blamed each other. They had to have done something wrong. Someone must have missed something. Children don’t just become latent criminals without some kind of catalyst. Everyone knows that. 

Reina, seemingly convinced of her husband’s guilt, began to throw him accusing looks at every given opportunity. They didn’t sleep together anymore; Reina had moved into Shuusei’s room. The doctors said she needed her space, and Masanori was not one to argue.

He suspected that his wife blamed him more than she let on. She’d grown more and more distant with each passing day, and Masanori knew better than to force the issue. When he found her one day, however, sobbing into one of Shuusei’s old shirts, he couldn’t keep himself away. But when he laid a hand on her shoulder she spun round, eyes flashing, wet with tears. 

“What did you do to him?” She hissed, teeth bared. She smelled of alcohol.

“What are you-”

“What did you do?” Her voice rose, becoming shrill and desperate. “What did you do to our son, Masanori? Did you hurt him? Did you hit him? Did you-” she sobbed, a loud, keening wail. “Did you touch him?”

“Reina…” He felt his stomach lurch at the accusation. Bile rose in his throat.

“You bastard! You sick fuck!” She struck him, pounding her fists against his shoulders. “You must have done something!” Her shoulders shook and heaved as she fell to her knees. “You- you must have…”

He left her there, sobbing on the floor. Any comfort he could offer would be hollow at best. Knowing this, he left for a bar to drink until he couldn’t feel anymore. He didn’t go back home that night.

***

The next day, Masanori began clearing out his son’s old room. His wife screamed, protested, threatened, but he didn’t listen. Enough was enough. They’d kept his room as it was for long enough, a denial of what they both knew: Shuusei was never coming home. 

His wife was all he had now, and if she clung to the empty hope that her son would be allowed out, then she’d be taken away too. He had to do something. Perhaps his efforts were coming too late, but he had to try.

***

“Do you think Shuusei looks more like you or me now?”

Reina’s words caught Masanori by surprise. They sat together at the dinner table, a half-empty bottle of liquor acting as a centerpiece. They’d fallen into this routine over the past two years since what came to be known as The Room Clearing. They’d sit together in silence, eat, drink, go to bed in separate rooms. Day in,day out. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Masanori shook his head and poured himself another drink. “I don’t know.”

Reina sighed and slipped a little white pill between her lips. “I think he looks like me.” She smiled. “I hope so, anyway.”

“Me too, for his sake.”

***

They continued in this way, living this strange, alcohol-fueled half life. Masanori found himself sleeping less and less, choosing instead to sit up late and stare into the blackness of his unlit bedroom. Reina continued to sleep more and more, taking her pills, washing them down with whatever she had at hand before climbing into bed. She persisted in this near constant state of sleep, waking only for food or to relieve herself for many months, until one day she just didn’t wake up at all.

***

It took Masanori three weeks to call the rehabilitation center to have them remove his late wife’s name from the emergency contact information in Shuusei’s file. He wondered why they even bothered having their names on file anyway; it was clear after nearly ten years that Shuusei was never getting out, nor would he be allowed to contact anyone on the outside. The only reason they’d have for contacting Masanori would be to inform him of his son’s death; a phone call that Masanori dearly hoped he’d never have to receive.

A parent never stops thinking about their child, not really, and despite his best efforts, Masanori found his thoughts turning towards his son’s well-being and whereabouts. Was he allowed to have his favorite foods? Was his favorite color the same? Did he still like dinosaurs? Masanori wasn’t sure what life would be like in the facility where Shuusei was surely being kept, but he hoped that, wherever he was, Shuusei knew that both of his parents loved him. They loved him very much.


End file.
